Friend
by Roxie Zephyr Jocelyn
Summary: Basil of Baker Street. The Sherlock Holmes of Mousedom. Merely two of the many titles that Sherringford Basil was known by. Yet, they were but pale descriptions as Dawson contemplated the mouse behind the names...


A/N: I am a fan of the Walt Disney movie 'The Great Mouse Detective' but I have never read the books written by Eve Titus. So, please bear with any discrepancies that may pop up during the story, especially details concerning Basil's personal life and family. None of the fascinating characters belong to me but to their creators: Eve Titus, Walt Disney and various pastiche authors. ENJOY!

Friend

The Sherlock Holmes of Mousedom.

It was but one of the many titles that had been bestowed on his dearest friend and partner, Sherringford Basil or more commonly known as Basil of Baker Street. One title of many names and identities but certainly the one title that held the most importance in Basil's eyes. Dr David Q Dawson knew that Basil studied long and hard, spending many sleepless nights and frustrating hours emulating his idol, the one and only Sherlock Holmes, and perfecting his own methods. However, it was not only his incredible powers of deduction and extreme skill in crime solving that had many mice dubbing the detective the 'Sherlock Holmes of Mousedom'. Along the way, in his many explorations and investigations in deepening his understanding of his human mentor, Basil had picked up many of the great detective's habits – his pipe smoking and his violin playing. Basil even employed Holmes' eccentric and dramatic flair in his investigations, employing madness in his methods! The mouse detective had in many ways become Holmes' double in Mousedom and he was extremely proud of it.

But Dawson knew that Basil was not Holmes, something not distinguishable and often misunderstood by many. There were subtle differences between the two great detectives of the age and though these differences were not obvious to an admiring public, they were extremely glaringly apparent to Dawson who had lived in close quarters with the detective. Upon realizing how much Basil had picked up from Holmes, Dawson had decided to explore Watson's own works on the great human detective – his own mentor in writing Basil's many cases and presenting them to the public. And, from his readings, Dawson could see how different Basil was from Holmes. Maybe it was Watson's portrayal of Holmes, maybe the detective was not really so behind the mask of words. But, Dawson knew that even if he had tried his utmost best, he would never be able to portray Basil the way Watson portrayed Holmes. To do so would have been a lie, an elaborate farce that would erase his own partner's personality.

For one thing, Basil was young, very young. Even when Dawson had first met Basil and worked with him on subsequent cases, even then, the doctor had not fully grasped Basil's true age. Basil had always seemed ageless, handsome and striking features showing him to be a young mouse in the prime of mousehood yet his deep green eyes seemed endlessly wise, pools of wisdom and understanding that spoke volumes of hard experiences and the cruelty of mousekind. It had hit Dawson in stunning realization, struck him like a bolt of lightning, when Mrs Judson had surprised Basil one afternoon during the first year of their acquaintance and partnership with a birthday cake, a chocolate one she had baked herself. There had been no candles on that cake, no visible sign of the age Basil had turned that year. Dawson's inquisitive nature had been piqued but though he persistently questioned his friend, a slightly flustered Basil had dismissed the doctor's prying. It was only later that afternoon, when Basil had stepped out on an errand that Mrs Judson confided in Dawson. And, Dawson had been stunned. Basil had only just turned 26 that year! That young age seemed at odds with the mouse that he knew, the mouse that had awed him with his experience, incredible intellect and mature if slightly cynical perception on various aspects of life. Basil could not have been that young, not when he had been confronting criminals long before Dawson had met him, outwitting adversaries twice his age, displaying the courage, fortitude and strong unbreakable will of mice trice his age. The great detective, admired in the highest circle of scholars and intellects, in the largest ranks of police and law enforcement officers, was only a mere mouse child! Dawson had reeled from the knowledge, utterly confounded and doubting the absolute truth in Mrs Judson's revelation. Holmes himself had reached the height of his fame in his mid-thirties. To think that Basil had been so much younger than his mentor – it was unbelievable.

But, there were instances that betrayed Basil as the young mouse he was and though this was not to public knowledge, it was these instances that set Basil apart from Holmes in Dawson's eyes. Simple moments as when Basil became buried and completely absorbed in a new book, not a scientific journal or even a book on deduction but a book of classic literature, the way his eyes would sparkle as they eagerly devoured every word on the page. The way a slight pout would mar his otherwise mature countenance when Mrs Judson denied him his favourite cheese crumpets or lectured him as if he were her own son. And then, there were the nights that Dawson would be plagued by insomnia, evicted from his comfortable bed by his urge for a midnight snack or drink, the very same nights when he would occasionally stumble upon Basil brooding in his armchair. Though many would dismiss this as the detective mulling over the minute details of yet another complex case, Dawson could see it for what it really was – an escape from the demons of his dreams. The way his expressive paws would fidget with his pipe and the way his tail would twitch with the occasional tremor, the way his eyes would be bruised by the rough hands of nightmares clearly showed a mouse that paid a heavy price for the success in his career. It was times that these that Dawson could reconcile the image of a green university graduate, new to the world, with the great Basil of Baker Street.

And though there were no indications of Holmes having a liking for children, Dawson knew that Basil had a soft spot for the innocent mice children. Basil's first meeting with Olivia Flaversham had given Dawson the impression that Basil simply abhorred children. Certainly anyone could have made that same mistake from the way Basil had constantly avoided Olivia's eager paws, seeking for hugs and affection, and the way he had ignored her very presence, deeming her insignificant, except during emergencies. But it was also that very case that Dawson realized that Basil's distant demeanor towards children came not from his loathing of them but from his ignorance in handling them. His revelation had been further confirmed upon his meeting with Brynna Basil, Basil's sister who was the mother of twin daughters, Victoria and Tamara Marylbone. Even though they had met under the rather strenuous experience of a very serious case, the twins had displayed a clear level of affection towards their Uncle Basil, who Brynna had jokingly deemed as the girls' third favourite person. And to Dawson's immense astonishment, Basil, despite not being openly affectionate, had responded to the twins by playing the violin for them when they requested and being extraordinarily tolerant of their presence when their inquisitive natures led to them peeking over his shoulders as he worked. The twins never touched, only watching with wide-eyed curiosity, never asking questions. Dawson supposed that was why Basil never seemed annoyed by their presence. Then, there were momentary lapses when Basil would awkwardly arrange a blanket that had been kicked askew by the girls in their sleep and his eyes would soften as he carefully patted their heads if they were restless. But such moments would only spark a twinkle of amusement in Dawson's eyes if he caught his friend in the act, flustered at Dawson's knowing glance. Thinking back, Dawson should have realized that Basil had a soft spot for children even during their first case. After all, the prickly detective had softened upon bidding farewell to Olivia, even going so far as to gingerly grasp her shoulders, a gesture in answer to her hug.

But it was the children's reactions to the detective that Dawson found most endearing. Despite his numerous eccentricities and his short temper, children never seemed to fear Basil. In fact, they seemed almost drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, trusting him instinctively. Olivia herself had been like this. Though Basil had ignored her and yelled at her, without giving her a hint of respect or a shred of comfort, she had called out to the detective to save her in her moment of crisis. Dawson had accidentally eavesdropped on the conversation between father and daughter in the aftermath of the case when Olivia had confided in her father her absolute faith that Uncle Basil would save them both, would protect them against the notorious Professor Ratigan, would bring them justice and would return them home. That was Basil's charm he supposed but to say that it affected only children would have been a lie. The cold façade of crime solving and the prickly eccentricity could not fully mask the streak of compassion, the righteous sense of justice and the blaze of passion that burned within Basil, his unconscious charisma and poise attracting the attentions of those who had met him. Everyone who had met Basil would definitely form a strong opinion of him, admiring him to the point of adoration and hero worship or loathing him to the point of murderous vengeance. With Basil, there was simply to in between. But whether or not a mouse liked the detective, there was undoubtedly nobody who was not affected by him. Dawson shook his head at this, a smile tugging helplessly at his own whiskers as he remembered his first impression of Basil.

'Dawson old chap, the game's afoot!'

A yell interrupted Dawson's musings before a blur of brown brushed past him. Grabbing his own cane and umbrella, Dawson strode over to the doorway between leading to Basil's makeshift laboratory, watching as the detective bustled about, hands dancing as they kept and retrieved the objects that he needed. It was times like these when his labours bore fruit that Dawson could see his friend, for the young mouse that he was, for the charismatic and compassionate mouse who loved children and was loved by all. After molten sparkling green eyes scanned the doctor, the detective turned away and strode to the door, never once glancing back, trusting that Dawson would follow him out into the dreary London weather, trusting that his partner would watch his back.

And, it was then that Dawson realized.

Basil of Baker Street was known by many titles, dubbed by mice to be the 'Sherlock Holmes of Mousedom'. But, there was one identity that Dawson treasured above the rest, a title he himself had given the detective, the one that in his eyes, best described the complex and often misunderstood mouse behind the names.

Sherringford Basil, his comrade.

His friend.


End file.
